I Ricking Hate My Life!
by HopeTheCrazyCat
Summary: Part 10 of "Entricked Fates" series: A brief glimpse in the life of Rick K-54 – a Salesman Rick – who isn't really as cheerful and happy as he always puts on for his customers. Warnings: depressive thoughts and (Rick/)Morty-hate, but nothing too triggering


AN: I promise that this is the last backstory chapter in the "Entricked Fates" series (well, before the big main event that's "The Lines Between Ricks and Mortys" anyways). The only thing that's missing now is the second chapter of "Gotta Catch Me Some Morty" and we're all set.

Warnings: depressive thoughts and (Rick/)Morty-hate, but nothing too triggering

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 **I Ricking Hate My Life!**

"Welcome in our store!" Rick greeted his customer happily.

He wasn't just any Rick. He was Salesman Rick.  
Well, he wasn't the only Salesman Rick on the Citadel since there were many stores here and just as many Salesman Ricks.  
However, he was Rick K-57 and the shop owner of the Citadel's biggest Morty merchandise store.  
He was also the friendliest and most cheerful Rick there ever was.  
No, that was actually not true. Actually, he was the most pathetic Rick that ever existed.  
Everyone else just thought that he was the most cheerful one, but Rick was sure that deep down even all of the others thought that he was wretched.

"Can I help you, Sir? Are you looking for something specific?" Salesman Rick asked in a friendly tone that seemed alien for a Rick.

The customer – a Rick with long hair and a leather jacket – only grunted, as he looked closer at one of the many colorful Morty dazzlers. "Nah. Just looking around."

The job was underpaid – like most jobs on the Citadel, really – but it was either this or standing in a kitchen, frying burgers at one of the fast food joints. He didn't really have many options here.  
Truthfully, he was one of those Ricks that had been lured to the Citadel with false promises. Well, not all of them were false. He was offered protection and that's what he got. However, everything else that he had been told was nothing but lies.  
They would tell you that you were special because you were a Rick, but no Rick on the Citadel was special.  
How could they, if they were surrounded by themselves?  
Sure, there were also Mortys who held less significance than Ricks, but even that didn't mean anything. It just meant that those boys were bastards that are even more pitiable.

Salesman Rick shifted a bit nervously from one foot to the other – smile still in place though – as his currently sole customer went from the stand with the dazzlers to another shelf and frowned at the Morty dolls that were lined up there.

Thinking back on it, Rick couldn't even quite remember why he had agreed to come here to begin with.  
He just remembered that he had worked in his garage when all of a sudden, a swirling green vortex had opened and a bunch of Ricks came through it. They told him about portal gun technology – something that he himself hadn't invented yet and since he was stuck here, probably never will – and then asked him to come with them to the Citadel of Ricks.  
It was for his own "good", they had said.  
Unfortunately, that invitation had been a one-way ticket and now he was stuck here in this miserable life forever since.

"Show me the Morty." The Morty doll squeaked in an annoying voice as the Customer Rick had picked one up and had pushed on the button on its belly.

He quickly put it back on the shelf again and strolled through the salesroom once more.

It was a life that he genuinely hated. He really did. Hated everything about it so much.  
Of course, he wasn't the only one who thought like this. It wasn't all smiles and sunshine for other Ricks either.  
In a way, they all sat more or less in the same boat – at least all of the Ricks who were in the same "low class" as him.  
If you happened to be in a manager position or somehow directly affiliated with the Council of Ricks then you didn't have to worry about anything. You had a good life. You were one of the special Ricks. Though, Salesman Rick questioned how special they were exactly.  
There was probably no Rick on the Citadel that was truly special because living on the Citadel made you less of a Rick.

The longhaired Rick paused at the shelf that held yellow towels. He let his hand run over it to feel its texture.  
It was soft and Salesman Rick had the materials memorized, of course, ready to inform his customer if he would ask him about any details…

Still, knowing all that, didn't help Rick K-57. He couldn't be happy about the fact that there were Ricks living here who had it even worse than him.  
No, the only thing he could think about was his own misery.  
It was because of that, that he also easily envied other Ricks even if it were only for the smallest of things.

The customer didn't ask anything. He just let his hand drop and continued looking around.

Storage Rick was such an example.  
The guy didn't have a much better paid job nor was it any easier, but there was so much that Salesman Rick would envy him for.  
One of the things was that Storage Rick was free to act like himself and could be rude to his customers if he wanted to – something that was unthinkable in Salesman Rick's profession. It was probably due to the fact that the customers always had to go back to him anyways because they needed to.  
Rick K-57 had to sell stuff though and if the customer didn't like his shop, his wares or him, then they would go and take their business elsewhere.  
There were enough other stores here after all and the competition might have better prices or just better service and that would be quickly his end.  
So, there was no question that he always had to be nice and cheerful – or at least act that part convincingly – even if his customers were complete assholes and acted as such.  
Seeing as most of them were Ricks, it was naturally a given that the customer was almost always an asshole anyway.

The Rick came to stop in front of rack that held various yellow t-shirts that had a Morty face on the front. He skimmed through them, seemingly looking for a size that would fit him.

Another thing to envy Storage Rick for was the freedom to wear whatever he wanted.  
Sure, since he also had to advertise crap for this whole Pocket Morty craze, he also had to wear at least those yellow Morty t-shirts, but that was nothing in comparison to the dress code that Salesman Rick had to go by. He was stuck with wearing this stuffy, cheap suit, always having to look presentable.  
Not only that though. Since selling was his job, he also had to advertise all that Morty related merchandise that he sold.  
It was another thing that he hated dearly.

Finding a shirt in the right size, the Rick picked it out and examined in from close up.

Truth be told, he actually couldn't stand Mortys and hated all of that stupid merchandise with a passion. The dazzlers, the yellow t-shirts, the ugly talking Morty dolls and the stupid yellow blankets and towels – he hated just all of it and everything that had to do with Mortys.  
He just didn't understand the appeal of it all and barely got the necessity.  
Rick K-57 never had a Morty of his own so that might be the reason why he could not relate so well with the other Ricks.  
In his opinion Mortys just looked so dumb with their stupidly naïve smiles and maybe they reminded him just a little bit too much of himself when he had been still young and full of optimism and when he had just started to study science.  
Thinking about it, there might actually be a Morty in dimension K-57, but since Rick had been brought here 15 years ago, he was stuck and without a portal gun of his own or something short of a miracle there was no chance for him to visit his daughter and see if she had a second child. So, if he had a Morty, he at least never got to meet him and probably never will.

"Can I try this on somewhere around here?" the customer finally spoke up.

Salesman Rick was quick to answer. "Of course! The changing rooms are just around that corner."

Dutifully, he led the customer who only grunted that he got it and didn't need help.

Maybe, it was also too much to say that he hated Mortys.  
It was probably more accurate to say that he hated the whole whirl that Ricks made about them.  
Sure, he did understand that they were their grandsons and also a cloaking device, but that explained in no way this whole Pocket Mortys fad.  
It also failed to explain some other things that he occasionally witnessed on the Citadel and at worst times even in his own shop.  
An "unhealthy attraction" was probably the best way to describe it and while many Ricks went by the sentiment that family doesn't mean anything, Salesman Rick certainly didn't want to see Ricks and Mortys making out with each other.  
Others would probably say that you couldn't blame them, seeing as Ricks and Mortys were the only folks that populated the Citadel, but to Rick K-57 that was also no excuse.

Salesman Rick's eyes went to his open shop front as he was distracted from the laughter of a passing Morty who was accompanying his Rick while waiting for his customer to either finish trying on the shirt or ask for more help.  
The Customer Rick exited the changing room after a while and hung the tried on t-shirt back on the rack.

Sure, he felt lonely, but the thought of having to do something with a Morty disgusted him. Not that he would say, he'd prefer other Ricks – like that crazy medic duo from the Morty Healing Center and Morty Labs.  
However, that disgust went far enough that he didn't want to see such things in his shop. He was barely able to tolerate Mortys in here and he thought that they didn't really have any business with him anyways.  
Why would they buy merchandise of themselves after all?  
His shop was for Ricks that were fans of Mortys or the so-called Morty trainers that would need supplies from him, like serums and Morty Manipulator Chips.

"Please come again." Rick practically shouted to the customer that left after he had looked around the store for almost half an eternity without buying anything in the end after all.

Behind that fake bright smile was nothing, but a broken and depressed man.  
He really hated his life!  
And one day he would change that.

He could see Investment Rick walking over the plaza and Salesman Rick held his breath, almost fearing that the other would steer in his direction. The other Rick only passed by his shop, focused on another customer of his, right around the corner.  
The reminder of his current financial situation was still there though.  
Since many other merchandise shops had opened up the Morty fans had started to by their fan articles there.  
That left Salesman Rick only with the supplies for Morty Trainers, but even those didn't sell as well anymore. Sure, there was the occasional alien or noob that would by manipulator chips or serums, but lately that was it.  
He figured that it had to do with the limitations on what he could sell to which trainers – qualified by their amount of batches – that had been pushed onto him by the Council of Ricks. There was no doubt that some shady Ricks were selling those supplies to anyone who asked for it in the alleyways to get around that restriction.  
Also, most Ricks knew how to craft all of that stuff themselves and since it was cheaper, preferred to do that exactly.  
Yeah, it didn't look too well for his shop and his job…

'One day…' Salesman Rick told himself '…I will do it…'

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AN: I'm probably the only one who ever thought this, but when I see Salesman Rick's face, I always think that his smile looks fake and that he's actually really sad on the inside. I just imagine seeing that in his eyes, but I'm probably silly ^^'


End file.
